Someone might as well roll up the whole sky, pack it away for good.

I always imagined music trapped inside my clarinet, not trapped inside of me. But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

I don't know how the heart withstands it.

You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.

It's as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way.

Or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of peopleMaybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time. Hauling them in as we make choices, good and bad, as we screw up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.

I can't shove the dark out of my way.